


Byzantine

by faufaren



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Hisoka is a creepy little shit, M/M, Pre-Canon, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, hisoka really needs to get his shit together, will raise rating when last chapter is released
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faufaren/pseuds/faufaren
Summary: The Genei Ryodan has a secret and Hisoka wants to know what it is. (Or, in which little siblings are significantly more fearsome than the elder one, there's a random zombie apocalypse, and someone keeps stealing the Spiders' clothes.)OC centric. Hisoka/OC pairing, because I’m trash. Takes place pre-canon of the Hunter X Hunter 2011 storyline. Uses the alternative spelling of names in the anime. Rated T for violence, psychopathic tendencies, and language.





	1. King Soul

Contrary to popular belief, the Genei Ryodan is not actually something that is universally hated.

In the news articles and official television newscasts and evening talk shows, they are a villainous bandit organization made up of the most cruel, most powerful criminals in the world, an international threat that deserves to be taken out and put behind bars for the rest of eternity.

On the internet, they have a fanbase. 

Top trending on most weeks on the top three social media websites; multiple forums discussing conspiracy theories about their powers, their origins, their possible love relationships; cosplayers, fanart drawn and fanfiction written about them. They even have a fandom, and people calling themselves the 'Fantom Troupers'. 

Inevitably, there are also the unfortunate cases of teenage hormones taking it too far, resulting in impulsive and often stupid actions. Such as the people who claim they've joined the Genei Ryodan, or others who claim that they are one of the known members. Or the several accounts on the internet of people saying that they've met the Genei Ryodan, that they're dating one of the members, even declaring that they've gotten married to one of them. 

And Kuroro Lucilfer, as the Ryodan's infamous leader and rumored to have the ethereal looks of a fallen angel, is one of the fan favorites. 

The Genei Ryodan's reaction to this, when discovered and brought to their attention by Shalnark, is immense amusement. 

Kuroro Lucilfer only has one love of his life, and that is his younger brother. 

Of course, no one actually knows about this tidbit of information, except for the members of the Ryodan. Kuroro himself made sure of it, and seeing that the millions of inhabitants of Meteor City have no official documents and therefore do not exist legally in the world-- family records, being among those government papers, obviously absent as well-- this made for a relatively easy task. 

And, despite the popular notion that the Spider has twelve legs and one head and therefore the Ryodan can only have thirteen members, he is also the fourteenth member of the Genei Ryodan. An officially nonexistent position, yet still there, just like people of Meteor City. A ghost. Nobody knows about that either. 

Why the man is so adamant about keeping it all a secret, Kuroro has only one reason. His younger brother is a monster. 

No, not one of those stereotypical creatures, often horned, grotesque, and perhaps covered in fur. This is something far more fearsome and innocuous and... normal-looking. After all, It is always said that the deadliest poison is the one that doesn't look anything like one. 

He is a man in his early twenties, four years younger than his older brother. Appearance wise, the only similarities that the two siblings share are their pale skin and their gray eyes. Good looks may also be part of the package, but how attractive an individual is all really boils down to one's personal preferences. 

Kuroro knows, as all the other members of the Ryodan have come to know, that it's neither a mask nor a container, but merely that there's also something more to it. 

It started when they were children, and it only grew more prominent as they became older.  
It's something like a directive, as all living organisms have in them. It's written into the genetic code, a message that every living thing subconsciously follows without fail. Some species have simply 'survival', for humanity it's 'prosper'-- but his is 'Conquer'. 

Kuroro Lucilfer's little brother is a ravenous beast of barely contained burning, boiling, blistering infinite thirst tightly compressed into the general shape of a human being. 

His name is Ritsuka. He has the soul of a King.


	2. One Meter

For as long as he can remember, Ritsuka has always had this space around him. One meter in each direction, it's a perfect sphere of space that has always belonged to him, his territory, where he holds reign, absolute control. His. 

And if something, anything at all, somehow ends up inside that space, well. It is also his for as long as it stays there. Immediately, undeniably, irrefutably his. Including people. 

He calls it his Reign, because that's exactly what it is. His very own little kingdom that travels with him everywhere, always there, saying that this this and this belongs to him, and no one can do a single thing about it. Not even the people on the outside or those who feel obligated to liberate things under another one's control. 

Those people are always such bothers. Ritsuka despises the human conscience; it gets in the way of everything. But on the other hand, humans are so screwy. He supposes that if they don't have that naggy little hindrance in the back of their minds, humankind will mostly likely have made themselves extinct by now. 

There's something constantly singing beneath his skin, an all-consuming hunger telling him to destroy, conquer and claim everything he sees and wants on the earth. It's impossible to resist. He doesn't entirely want to. 

But sometimes it gets annoying, and sometimes he's tired, and sometimes he just feels like lazing around. 

Most people don't like to be around him. Kuroro says it's about loss. It feels kind of nice to be inside of his Reign, makes you feel warm and fuzzy and safe and you just want to melt to pieces, relinquish all control. People don't like that last bit, the loss of control. It's human nature to like to be in control of things that happen to themselves, in control of their mind and body, and that's why people instinctively avoid him even if they don't know about his Reign. 

Kuroro is about the only person who is immune to it, and that's only possible through his prolonged exposure to it since Ritsuka's birth. He's also the first to ever hold him (their mother refused to even touch Ritsuka), and the only person who'd willingly raise him (his bones would be rotting under a pile of trash if not for him). 

So, although it sort of grates on his bones that Kuroro will be the only person he'd never be able to truly conquer, Ritsuka loves him the most of all the people in the world. 

He's always kept a careful watch on his older brother, watching him learn and grow in leaps and bounds, watching him fight and outsmart people decades older and bigger than him. He watched Kuroro's genius intellect far surpass anyone else's, his brilliant mind simply devouring any and all knowledge like a ravenous animal until it was on an entirely different level, in a whole new world. 

Ritsuka has watched his brother observe the social tendencies, manners, and customs of other societies and take them as his own until he has them perfected to an art. And then he watched him turn it all around to climb the power hierarchy almost effortlessly, winding around his fingers people who fancied themselves as powerful leaders until they were reduced to smitten slaves in the face of Kuroro's overwhelming charisma and charm. 

And when Kuroro got his idea and made himself his very own rendition of the Holy Bible's twelve disciples, Ritsuka followed along because he has watched all these things and he's seen how Kuroro has grown from a boy with nothing but a brilliant mind and a resolve to use it to a beautiful, deadly man who has used his genius to assemble himself the most powerful arsenal of people in the world merely so they can cater to his every whim. 

Ritsuka loves watching Kuroro. He'll never get tired of it. 

"What's gotten you so happy?" 

Kuroro looks down at him curiously, book held in hand, a finger places in between the pages ( _The Picture of Dorian Gray,_ Ritsuka read thoughtfully, he thought Kuroro had finished that already). Ritsuka blinks up innocuously at him, his head on his brother's lap, both of them situated in a couch in the living room of the penthouse whose owner Ritsuka had murdered (he'd wanted it so he took the most expedient method of getting it). 

It's a lazy afternoon and neither of the brothers had felt like doing anything exciting. Kuroro is reading and Ritsuka has decided to simply bask in his presence, and in the sunlight. 

There's always a sense of class around Kuroro. His older brother is a man who can rip out a person's spine while playing the piano with the other hand. He is like one of those exotic plants, deceptively beautiful, seemingly delicate and fragile, but one touch and you're on the ground, two breaths away from death. 

Kuroro sees his younger brother's eyes cloud over again as he gets lost in his thoughts again while staring at Kuroro's face and quirks a corner of his mouth. "Ritsu," he pokes the young man's cheek. "Riiiiitsu." 

Ritsuka bats away the offending finger from his face and turns onto his side. 

"Hmrrrrhhmmh," he says intelligibly as he smushes his face into Kuroro's shirt. 

Fortunately, Kuroro seems to know the language of weird made up noises because he says, "Okay," puts a hand on the head in his lap, and resumes reading.


	3. Raison D’Etre

It's been two months since Hisoka finally got himself inducted into the Genei Ryodan. Two months since Kuroro Lucilfer had disappeared off the face of the earth and Hisoka just about died of boredom because he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the man was hiding. 

He'll find out today. Kuroro had somehow contacted every Genei Ryodan member spread out over the lands and arranged a gathering. Something has caught his eye and he wants it. 

It's only afternoon when Hisoka is one of the first to arrive at the specified meeting location, perhaps because he'd been closer to it than the others. (Another abandoned warehouse, he notes, Kuroro seems to have a thing for dilapidated locations. Why the man doesn't pick a place that serves their purpose of staying under the radar while still enjoying the luxuries of running water and a bed, Hisoka isn't quite certain. Although it may have something to do with the fact that abandoned warehouses, while having none those, are more successful in containing thirteen hyperactive S-Class criminals in one place for a temporary amount of time.) 

Hisoka absently takes brief note of Kortopi, Shizuku and Phinx here, but his eyes automatically seeks out the man who'd called him here and finds him perched on a ledge far above the ground, reading a book by the light coming in through the large half-boarded up window. Then his attention is immediately drawn to an individual that he's never seen before, who is nearly curled around Kuroro like a baby koala bear and pawing at his hair. 

"I hate it when you slick your hair, Kuroro," the unknown man is saying. "You're upsetting the ecology of your head with all that gel." 

The way he speaks and how he holds himself makes him seem younger but Hisoka knows better than to judge age by appearance, knowing several prime examples in his life of how looks can deceive. 

"Ecology," repeats Kuroro in amusement. "I'm not some type of habitat now, Ritsu." 

"But, it's all... crunchy," the young man (teenager?), apparently named Ritsu, wrinkles his nose in distaste. "And it smells weird. Ew." 

Kuroro looks like he's about to roll his eyes, has nearly taken on the expression of an elder brother being accosted by their younger sibling that Hisoka almost gives himself whiplash doing a double take. "I can't help it. No one takes me seriously without my slicked back hair. Apparently I look 'too cute' with bangs." 

Ritsu perks up at that last tidbit. Suddenly his eyes sharpen like razor edge and-- and _what_ , Hisoka has only seen that exact shade of thunder grey before and it was on Kuroro Lucilfer's own face. 

"Who said that?" Ritsu asks sharply. 

"Why, who other than Hisoka would say that?" 

"Who's that?" 

Kuroro's gaze strays from the page he's been trying to read without much success ( _A Clockwork Orange,_ reads the cover, by Anthony Burgess, Restored Text Special Edition), and settles on Hisoka's form below them, casually leaning against one of the support pillars and not-so-subtly eavesdropping. "Him." 

Ritsu's head jerks around and suddenly Hisoka is struck with the inexplicable sensation of being studied under the heavy gaze of a powerful, deadly predator. Those eyes are incredible no matter which face you put them on but while Kuroro has always been a blank, beautifully designed face of serenity, this young man somehow manages to make them look more... _voracious_ , like there's an inferno burning behind them, barely restrained by a withering string. 

Hisoka represses a shiver of delight, his interest already raising its head like it always has before, a curious thing inside of him. He's is starting to make the connections, see the resemblance, but it almost seems too good to be true to believe that Kuroro Lucilfer has been hiding a sibling who is just as powerful as him. 

That incredible gaze is taken away from him when Kuroro reaches out and pulls Ritsu back to him in a hug, who goes along with it very reluctantly. Hisoka has never seen him in so much human contact without someone ending up with a hole in their gut; there's always been something untouchable about Kuroro, too perfect, as if his very existence is on an entirely different wavelength. 

"Don't look so serious, little brother," says Kuroro, and yes, that is definitely on purpose, telling Hisoka who exactly is this young man to him and confirming his suspicions. "I am quite capable of defending my own virtue." 

Despite his words, Ritsu still shoots Hisoka a dagger-filled glare that says 'touch him and die.' It's the nastiest, most belittling expression Hisoka has ever seen someone pull off, and that's saying something. 

Now he sees the clear resemblance, the same shade of pale skin, the same slightly exotic shape of the eye and that same hue of grey like a thunderstorm swirling on the horizon. 

Ritsu's nose is smaller though, his features more dainty and slightly more androgynous, his entire body figure perhaps smaller and less prominent in bulk than his older brother. His hair is probably what throws Hisoka off the most, a silvery blond that turns nearly white when the light hits it, so far off from Kuroro's own carbon black that it's like seeing the sun and the moon. 

Perhaps Kuroro may be throwing his younger brother to Hisoka in hopes of diverting his obsession from himself to Ritsu or perhaps Kuroro may be saying back off but regardless, Hisoka's curiosity has already caught on. 

The man has always had an air of purpose, but Hisoka had never been able to figure out what it is. Surely, he'd thought, surely Kuroro's ultimate goal isn't merely to obtain all the riches of the world. No, he was far too complex a person for such a shallow, materialistic human desire like that. 

This is it. This young man is Kuroro Lucilfer's raison d'être. 

Perhaps... Hisoka might allow himself a distraction.


	4. No Resistance

After the Ryodan once again pulls in a big haul and they spend the next few days happily grazing through the goods like sheep in the meadows, Ritsuka uses this time to go to the mall. Pakunoda and Machi are his playmates And and Shalnark is dragged along because... well, because. He doesn't really know what he's doing there either. 

As Shalnark hovers awkwardly among the piles of fabric, keeping his eyes mostly on the screen of his phone, Machi wanders off, trailing her fingers over the racks of clothes and browsing by touch rather than sight. Pakunoda and Ritsuka head towards the women's side of the store. 

"This," says Pakunoda as she pulls out what looks to be just two large pieces of leather cut unevenly and sewn together, at least to Shalnark's eyes. He can't make heads or tails of the thing, but Ritsuka seems to be somewhat interested in it. 

He changes his mind a second later. "Actually, no," he dismisses it. "Too plain." Then something catches his eye and he grabs another shirt, holds it out. "I like the print on this." 

Pakunoda nods. "It's cute," she agrees, and takes it from Ritsuka when he hands it to her to hold on to. 

(She nearly holds her breath when his fingers brush over hers. Even after so many years, it's always a struggle to remain unaffected when you're within range of Ritsu's Reign and you can't help but want to do whatever he wants you to do. Resisting the compulsion is as close to impossible as it gets, but it's still feasible, though Pakunoda has never been one of those extremely dominant personalities.) 

Machi comes back with a pile of clothes in her arms, an excited gleam in her eyes like she can't wait to put them all on Ritsu. 

The young man eyes her with approval. "Your tastes are as sharp as always, Machi," Ritsuka tells her as he sorts through the fabric. 

Machi practically glows with the praise (she's just under a meter away from Ritsu, and it's enough) but tries to hide it nonetheless. "Obviously," she sniffs. "Would you doubt me?" 

The look Ritsuka gives her is a mix between fondness and indulgence, much like how one would look at a rather cute pet. "Of course not," he says, and it's like he restrains himself from almost patting her head. "Let's go try these out." 

Machi shares a look with Pakunoda, and the women usher Ritsu to the dressing rooms with a manic gleam in their eyes that has Shalnark resolving to keep a comfortable distance as they turn Ritsuka into their life-size dress up doll. 

Clothing of all styles, patterns, and colors are assembled into various different outfits and every time Ritsuka comes out of the dressing room wearing a new set he attracts the attention of more than Machi and Pakunoda. 

By modern society beauty standards, Ritsuka is admittedly a very pretty man. He and Kuroro both have slightly exotic features that make them stand out amongst a crowd, are both attractively androgynous enough to be appealing to the eye for most people in both genders, and are both gifted with a devastating charm. It must be genetic, the Ryodan believe, because they can collectively agree that they've never seen any other pair of people more aesthetically pleasing. 

So understandably, the store employees and other shoppers are both attracted and generally confused. Shalnark looks at them in sympathy, because he knows the feeling, has seen it many times in the past with both siblings, though Kuroro is by far the more silver-tongued of the two (because clearly it's not enough that Kuroro can charm the pants off of any female, but is also able to seduce most males as well). 

They wander through the mall in a wide, meandering path, traveling through the men's sections as well, the cosmetic stores, brand stores that cater to gaudy teenagers, new indie brand stores, even one popular lingerie store. 

Hours later, they eventually end up in the shoe section of a large department store. Machi, Pakunoda, and Ritsuka have changed into new outfits and somehow along the way Shalnark has become the pack-mule for the three. 

Shalnark is staggering under all the things they've accumulated when Ritsuka finally looks up from the pair of stiletto heeled boots he'd been trying on. He stops and surveys the thousands of jennys of bags and boxes that all seem to be doing their best to suffocate the other man, then declares, "I think that's good enough." 

He puts the boots back into the box and adds it to Shalnark's mountain, smiles sweetly at him, reaches over and pats the blond's cheek. "Such a hard worker," he says, and Sharlnark just about melts under the touch. "Paku, Machi, come help out poor Shal." 

None of them stand a chance against Ritsuka's Reign, no matter what the rest of the world says about S-Class criminals, or internationally recognized single most powerful organized group, or billion-jenny worth bounties. They don't really mind it either.

* * *

One night, Ritsuka comes back covered in blood. In his hands, is something small, white, and furry. 

Hisoka watches in silent amusement as the other Ryodan members titter over the young man like mother hens. 

"Welcome back, Ritsu," Kuroro says from where he's lounging in a cozy green couch with a book ( _1984_ , by George Orwell, apparently he was in a mood for utopian-dystopian societies). Then his eyes snap to the thing in Ritsuka's hands. 

"A rabbit," he notes, his eyes lighting up in a way that the rest of them, used to his single-minded personality, recognize immediately. "Let me pet it." 

"No." Ritsuka says sharply, then laughs at the look on Kuroro's face, even as Pakunoda wipes a vibrant splatter of blood from his cheek. 

Feitan plucks at the stains on his clothes, and makes a sound of distaste. "Your clothes are ruined," he tsks lowly. "How did you get so filthy again?" 

The fact that it is implied that Ritsuka has shown up bloody and reeking of fire and death many times before doesn't pass unnoticed by Hisoka (and it only adds another layer of attraction to the younger man). 

"There were people," explains Ritsuka as he lets Machi take his jacket, most of its beige fabric dyed a deep red now. "They were bothering me and it was horribly annoying. You know I hate it when people don't leave me alone when I want them to." 

"Of course." 

"What's up with the bunny?" asks Phinx. He ruffles a hand through Ritsuka's hair, trying to dislodge the dried up clumps. 

Ritsu absently pets the rabbit, but makes a noise of displeasure when he realizes that the blood on his hands were coming off onto the creature's white fur. 

"It's a gift from a pet store I saw on the way back." He wrinkles his nose, while Shalnark wipes his fingers clean with a damp towel, "I didn't like them too much. They were keeping the animals in these little cages, and all the humans there were being so mean to them." 

He hugs the rabbit to his chest tighter, and all the Ryodan members gathered around him nearly coo at the sight it made. Hisoka can only stare at them in something close to abject horror, or at least incredulity. Just a few minutes ago they were characteristically normal, sitting around with nothing to do; Shalnark on his phone, Pakunoda reading a book from Kuroro's vast library, Machi, Phinks, and Feitan had just gotten into a heated debate over some trivial thing. Then Ritsuka comes back and they all turn into doting, coddling older siblings. 

Hisoka still can't believe that this young man named Ritsuka, is Kuroro Lucilfer's younger brother. It seems too good to be true. 

And too contradictory. Ritsuka is the Genei Ryodan's secret, their ultimate weapon, the one they most fear and covet at the same time—but most of the members treat him like he's the Ryodan's baby brother most of the time. 

It's completely bizarre. Hisoka still hasn't let himself get within one meter of the man. 

Ritsuka has this little smile on his face as he plays with the rabbit's fur, settled on the other side of Kuroro's couch with his feet tucked underneath himself. It's a smile that looks pretty but isn't nice in nature at all (then again, none of the Ryodan have nice smiles), blank and dead and hungry at once. 

He looks down at the little white rabbit in his lap and it's like he doesn't see a living creature at all, only an object to obsess over for a short period of time, then toss away once the interest has passed. 

The times in which Ritsuka lets himself relax a little bit are always at the most odd, random and unexpected moments, such as this one, and the rest of them get a small glimpse of what he really is, under all that playful, head-in-the-clouds, rather endearing boyishness. 

He still hasn't let his brother pet the rabbit. Kuroro tries not to sulk and fails miserably. 

The rabbit is gone in a few days. Hisoka lost track of it somewhere along the way and it never shows up again. No one asks questions, or seems to even notice it. 

In the times during Kuroro's devious schemes in which all the Ryodan are gathered in one obscure spot, Hisoka has observed Ritsuka closely and has come to learn many of the young man's little cute personality quirks. 

For one, he's found to his amusement that Ritsu acts very much like a very large, very lazy cat. 

He sleeps in Chrollo's sofa, eats the Ryodan's food, steals their clothes whenever he wants and lounges about with Phink's oversized hoodie billowing around him, and wanders in and out however it pleased him. 

He can be quite lazy like a spoilt prince if he wants to, and also treats the Ryodan like they're all pieces of furniture. And they let him because so far no one can stop him. Kuroro could try, of course, being the only person who is physically able to do so, but he hasn't yet expended the effort so far (the potential fallout might also be a factor in that decision, because Ritsu can be quite frightening). 

Such as right now. Some of the Genei Ryodan are sitting around playing cards and Ritsu had just sort of... flopped over a number of them. His head is in Frankin's lap, his feet are tucked under Uvogin's thigh, and he lays across Nobunaga and Shizuku both. 

There is casual, lethargic claim to the way Ritsuka is touching as many of the Ryodan as he can. This is mine, this is mine, this is also mine and oh look, this is mine too. And not one of the mentioned Ryodan seem to mind it. 

"Queen of Hearts." 

"Tough luck," says Franklin, as Nobunaga grumbles under his breath and takes the pile.


	5. Entertainment

Heavens Arena is noisy. 

As a rule, Ritsuka prefers quiet environments; like the Spider’s headquarters whenever Chrollo is up to another one of his dastardly schemes, when everyone is too bored to really argue with each other; like Kuroro’s voice whenever Ritsuka succeeds in getting him to read aloud whatever book he has on hand. 

There are loud noises that Ritsuka doesn’t mind, of course. Explosions, for example, are very nice sounds. So is senseless destruction and carnage. The chaos on a battlefield. The cracks you hear when you crush all the bones in a person. The roaring inferno of fire. Screams of pain and anguish, perhaps, but Ritsuka finds it becomes annoying after a while. 

Heavens Arena is noisy in the way that grinds exactly on Ritsuka’s nerves, with its humming bustle of human conversation, announcers over the intercom, and general commotion and clamor. Too much human chatter. Too much life in them. 

He’s hungry, and the noise is just another reminder of what he can’t have. 

“No mass destruction or murder, please. Heavens Arena is a fun place that I would rather keep intact,” Kuroro had told him, just before he’d left. And normally Ritsuka would have beheaded whoever that dared to tell him what to do, but this is Kuroro, and Ritsuka couldn’t harm a hair on his beloved elder brother (because _he’s mine_ ). 

He looks at the ticket in his hand, then to his surroundings, at the arena entrances that all look the same and the sets of elevators with confusingly numbered floors. He’s never been really good with directions, because he’s always had Kuroro for that. Kuroro is amazing with directions. But Kuroro wanted to go on a stealing spree that day and had felt that wasting the ticket to the Heavens Arena battle that Hisoka had so flamboyantly presented to him would’ve been a shame. 

Ever since Ritsuka had seen the newest member of the Ryodan, he had classified Hisoka as a Highly Curious Though Rather Creepy Person Who Can Get Pretty Annoying. Though to be honest, it had been the same for the previous #4 member, but Ritsuka would rather have Hisoka’s brand of creepiness than Omokage’s ‘I will dig up your fresh grave so I can rip the eyes out of your dead corpse and add them to my eyeball collection’ type of nastiness. 

“Hi there, do you need any help?” 

Ritsuka’s first instinct is to whirl around, knives leading, and rip the intruder open from stem to stern. His second is to dive for safety and set the tower on fire to cover his escape. 

His third, in contrast, is to twitch with tension, but otherwise stay where he is, because alright, perhaps he does need some assistance. 

He turns and sees a person standing next to him (hm, a fairly young man, perhaps in his late twenties to early thirties but appears to be younger, strawberry blond and hazel-eyed, with a few speckles of sunspots on his cheeks; Ritsuka supposes he would be pleasing to the common eye). The unknown man looks at him with those bright eyes, and Ritsuka takes a moment to admire how open and honest he seems to be (so much goodwill displayed in just that expression, so genuine and real and breakable). 

“Yeah,” Ritsuka answers, holding up his ticket and putting a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “I have no idea where to go for the Kastro versus Hisoka fight?” 

The man’s face brightens exponentially, if it’s possible. “Oh sweet, I was gonna watch it too! Maybe we can go together?” Those hazel eyes look at him in hope, before the man seems to remember something, and holds out his hand, “My name’s Sai. Can I ask what’s yours?” 

Ritsuka smiles disarmingly, and observes as the man’s gaze flickers a bit, confusion clouding his face for a second before the original happy expression is restored. Aww, he thinks, it’s an honorable one. 

People see Ritsuka and magically lose their ability to think with their upstairs brains. It’s the same for Kuroro, and both brothers know exactly how to use and manipulate that to serve their own benefit. They’ve been doing it for years. 

“I’m Erosa,” says Ritsuka, and doesn't shake the man’s hand. Sai doesn’t seem to notice, and his hand returns to his side without issue (he’s maintaining a respectable distance, but he still stands just at the perimeter of Ritsuka’s Reign, and civilians are even more susceptible to the effects of it). 

Ritsuka grins, and if it shows a couple more teeth than necessary, the other man doesn't see it. “Nice to meet you, Sai.”

* * *

The battle is entertaining at best. But Ritsika kept on getting distracted by the announcers on their microphones, the roaring crowds that filled the stadium, and Sai’s endless flow of excited chatter. Too loud. Too much fragile human lives around him. (His fingers twitch the entire time.) 

It seems that Hisoka has already made a name for himself at Heavens Arena, despite it being his first time fighting on the 200 floors. He had gone straight to the 200s after a few battles on the lower the floors, apparently, winning by K.O. in one hit in every one of those fights. Every knockout resulted in the opponent’s immediate death, which Ritsuka supposes he can’t be too surprised about. 

Hisoka’s opponent is a man called Kastro, who is also very well-known. A celebrity, according to the people around Ritsu. No wonder the stadium is so packed. They all seem to think that both fighters have the same chances of winning, especially when Kastro manages to land three points a heartbeat after Hisoka scores two points on him. 

But everyone misses the way Hisoka looks at his opponent––seems to miss how Hisoka moves with the grace and alertness of an apex predator, his entire being radiating the confidence of someone at the very top of the food chain. Hisoka is playing with Kastro, and only Ritsuka is able to recognize it.

When the battle is over, (Hisoka wins 10 points to 3, and those lost points are only because Hisoka had gotten too distracted with playing with his toy), Sai turns to Ritsuka. “That was so intense!” He gushes with puppy excitement. “Too bad Hisoka won, but did you see the way Kastro went in for that three pointer? That was so cool! Man, Kastro’s my favorite.” 

“Really?” Ritsuka asks conversationally. “But didn’t he lose? Doesn’t that mean he’s weaker?” 

“Yeah, but Kastro fights with honor, at least. Hisoka just… kills everybody he sees. He also gives off weird vibes,” Sai gets a frown that lasts for about two seconds before it gets washed away by his seemingly never-ending exuberance. 

Ritsuka raises his eyebrows, because damn if he feels a little sorry for Hisoka that everyone actually thinks he is nothing more than a crazy murderer. It might be biased of him to say, but every Ryodan member, he thinks, is an amoral deviant of society in their own unique way (that's why his brother picked them, after all). Such a shame if everyone else insists upon simplifying them to nothing more than the common criminal. 

“Anyway, um,” Sai pauses, then continues a bit more bashfully. “Erosa, would you like to have dinner with me?” 

For a moment, Ritsuka studies him, marveling at the slight blush, the fidgeting as Sai awaits hopefully for his answer. Aw, Ritsuka thinks, not for the first time that day, I haven't found one this cute in a while. 

“Alright, Sai,” he smiles, and watches how those hazel eyes light up and those lips instantly curl up into a wide grin. 

Dinner with Sai is a pleasant event, he supposes. Sai is a cheerful, excitable thing, full of things to say and endless babble. Like a puppy. It’s… energetic. 

(He looks at the food he ordered and finds himself bereft of any appetite. He’s hungry––always hungry––but not for this.) 

“So, Erosa, how about you?” 

“Hm?” Ritsuka glances up and sees Sai looking at him expectantly, a silly little grin resting on those sun-kissed features. It’s easy to talk to Sai, Ritsu finds. The man does all the work by himself. All it takes is a few words here and there and some well-placed questions to continue the conversation. 

In the fifteen minutes that Ritsuka has dined together with Sai, he’s learned that Sai is the youngest of three siblings, all of them sisters, and they’re also the ones who had taught him MMA when he was a child to fend off playground bullies; one of his sisters actually did fight her way to the 200ths floor, but quit when she reached the threshold; his family has a long-standing tradition to have a reunion every other year to watch the Battle Olympia at Heavens Arena; he joined the army when he graduated high school and served for six years; and he is currently working as an english teacher at a high school in the city. 

“Oh,” says Ritsuka idly, in answer to Sai’s question. “I’m a freelancer, mostly.” 

“Like an artist? That’s awesome!” 

Ritsuka thinks about it. Being a Genei Ryodan member could be similar to being an artist, he supposes, though their idea of art might stray towards the anarchic side. Explosions and murder and vast amounts of money and death. Very destructive as artists, they are. 

“I have a friend who majored in art, actually, went into the graphic design industry and made it big. Works for a magazine company now. You know Queue? It's popular fashion issues! He designs the covers! Now on the other hand, my sister wants to go into animation––” 

“Sai.” 

He instantly snaps to attention. A lazy smile slowly rising to his lips, Ritsuka reaches out and slides a finger down the man’s cheek, catching the dab sauce at the corner of his mouth before bringing it back to his own lips and licking it off. 

Sai just stares dazedly at the display. The party at another table to the right, who have been glancing over at Ritsuka (because he isn't like his brother, who can both hide himself in plain sight and dazzle anyone he so chooses to; he doesn't care about things like subtlety and stealth), are oddly aroused. Having noticed all of this, Ritsuka is almost satisfied. 

Everyone is helpless. _It isn't enough._

“Come with me,” he says, standing up. Sai gets to his feet as well, eager to please. 

The waiter approaches them, probably to ask about the bill, but Ritsuka stops her with a glance. Money disgusts him. He hates paying for things. She turns away, completely forgetting about her original goal. Sai doesn't seem to notice anything. 

Ritsuka leaves the restaurant and leads Sai by the hand down the busy streets. It's nighttime now, the sun having set just a few minute ago. 

“Uh, Erosa? Where––” Sai bites off his question when he is suddenly jerked to the side, pulled onto a small street that he hadn't noticed before. It's a dark, desolate street, with a fenced water reservoir on one side and dark buildings on the other, lit by a lone street light. 

Ritsuka lets go of his hand and steps away (five steps, just out of range). With the light of the street lamp at his back, his face is cast into shadow as his hair is illuminated in an unearthly halo. Sai shivers a little at the sight. He doesn't know why, but all of a sudden Erosa looks like one of those untouchable things out of an urban legend. 

Beautiful, but lethal if you get too close. 

“E—Erosa––?” He asks, a bit of hesitance, a bit of nervous humor. 

The silver halo of hair shifts as the young man tilts his head. Sai catches a glint of charcoal grey eyes, that had looked (still is) so exotic with that shape and size and slight slant that sat just right upon his face. But those grey eyes are so cold now… no, they had never been warm. Why hasn't he noticed before? 

Erosa looks at him as though he is not a person. 

Sai blinks, and suddenly the man who’d introduced himself as Erosa is right there in front of him, not even two feet away from him. Startled, Sai stumbles back and hits the fence. Erosa follows him for every step. 

Laughing weakly, Sai gains the confidence back to try once again, “Erosa, did you want anything?” He hadn't meant to ask that, specifically, but this is alright, too. 

A smile rises on Erosa’s lips, and Sai thinks it makes the young man look even more beautiful. It was what had drawn him in the first place. (He doesn't see how it doesn't reach the eyes.) 

“You’ve given me quite enough already,” Erosa says, casually looping his arms around Sai’s neck. “Today was very fun. I enjoyed it a lot with you, Sai.” 

Sai smiles widely, happy that Erosa was apparently happy. “Oh, thats––” 

“Shh, Sai, I need you to be quiet for me.” Erosa's finger is on his lips (again), pressing in just at the center. He leans in close, and whispers in his ear, “There, isn't it better? You make a lot of noise, and while it's all pleasant, silence is also very nice as well. Don't you think so?” 

Wide eyed and a little slack jawed, Sai nods. He can do silence. If Erosa wants it. 

Erosa’s smile widens. “Oh,” he coos, sliding his hands up to cradle Sai’s face in between them. He is close enough for his lips to brush against his cheek as he speaks. “Sweet, obedient Sai,” he murmurs. “You're the cutest thing I've met in a while.” 

It doesn't bode well, the little bit of brain function that's left in Sai (or maybe it is just plain survival instinct) tells him, if he is being referred to as a thing by a person who looks at him with dead eyes. 

He can't move an inch. He… doesn't really want to. Erosa is enjoying himself. That's all that matters. 

“Such energy in you,” Ritsuka continues. “You're so… alive.” 

Sai can't help but gasp a little when the younger man leans up to press his lips against the edge of his mouth. (Not quite a kiss. It's closer to how one would treat their favorite stuffed animal.) 

“You are––” Ritsuka slips away from the man, already halfway turning away. “Completely forgettable.” 

The man crumples to the ground, a knife slid in between his ribs with perfect precision; it's an instantaneous kill. 

Ritsuka inspects his nails absentmindedly, thinking about where he is to dispose of the body. His DNA is already on it, pity. While the police investigators won't be able to find anything about him, this incident will become a record for them to keep of him, and that will just make Kuroro disappointed. His big brother has worked hard to keep his existence a secret. And Ritsu knows he doesn't make it very easy. 

In the end, the body is stuffed into a nearby trash can and thrown into the water reservoir, weighed down with rocks to make it sure it remains at the bottom. Hopefully no one will find it until a few days later. 

Ritsuka contemplates his next source of entertainment. Hisoka seems a good choice as any, so he heads back to Heavens Arena.


	6. Collision

“Hisoka, I’m crashing here for the night.” 

Was what Hisoka heard as he opened his door. He only had a second to register the familiar face of Kuroro Lucilfer's younger brother before the younger man breezed past him and into his room. 

“Hm,” says Ritsuka as he inspects his surroundings. “Smaller than I expected.” 

Hisoka takes a moment longer to stare unblinkingly at his sudden intruder, then decides to go along with it (he’d felt the Reign, when Ritsu had brushed by him––and it is _very strong._ Like a gravitational pull, like base instinct, nearly impossible to resist and perhaps it is already affecting his judgment but it isn't as if he really minded it at all anyway.) 

“I’ve only just begun to fight on the two-hundreds floors. My accommodations will improve in time,” Hisoka offers as an explanation. 

“You should just take it,” Ritsuka wrinkles his nose in that oddly endearing way. He shrugs off his jacket and throws it haphazardly on the back of a chair. “I don't get why people think following rules is so great. I hate rules.” 

Perhaps, thought Hisoka, that is because Ritsuka is in the lofty position of someone who makes it physically impossible for everyone around him not to ensure that his every whim is fulfilled. But then all his thoughts come to a screeching halt when Ritsuka starts to unbuckle his belt. 

“My sweet,” he said, then paused. “What are you doing?” 

Ritsuka plops himself down on the edge of the bed and proceeds to pull his pants off. As the fabric slides down his leg, an expanse of smooth, creamy pale skin is revealed, broken only by a multitude of large scars running across the limbs. Hisoka can't tear his eyes away. 

It’s only when he’s in just his shirt and underwear, pants chucked somewhere on the floor, that Ritsuka looks up at him. “I can’t sleep with that many clothes on. Too much fabric.” he tells him. 

The scars on his legs match the ones on his arms, hidden under the long sleeved shirt Ritsuka now wears, but glimpsed at in those rare occasions that the man wears clothes that expose his arms. They’re big, deep marks on his body, like someone had taken a gouger and stripped off pieces of his skin from his flesh. Hisoka is struck with the sudden urge to run a hand down those long, slender legs, to feel how those scars would feel under his palm. 

“Usually when one starts stripping in front of another non-familial acquaintance, you’d expect there to be more than sleeping.” Hisoka takes a step forward, silent and ghosting, so subtle. 

“You mean sex? I thought you liked Kuroro. Didn't you ask him out one time? Kuroro told me about it, I think.” 

“I did.” Hisoka sighs forlornly, though the predator gaze never left his eyes. “I got rejected.” 

“And so you gave up? That’s quite unlike you, HIsoka. What ever happened to your enviable determination to violate all the people you enjoy fighting?” 

“I didn’t want to give up but I couldn’t run after him because he had eviscerated me. I kept tripping over my intestines.” 

Ritsuka looks thoughtful. “A fantastic strategy. Does that always work?” 

“How about,” suddenly Hisoka is leaning into Ritsuka’s space and pressing a hand down on his chest, “How about we stop talking about these things that are getting me all worked up and I just fuck you into this bed right now?” 

Ritsuka is sorely unimpressed. He slaps Hisoka's hand away and pushes him off of his person. “No. I want to sleep. You can have the couch.” 

And with that, he turns around, crawls beneath the covers and curls into a ball, pulling the covers over his head. All that’s left to see of him is his hair sticking out from the pile of blankets. Hisoka’s left hanging, still in his half-loom and staring at the wayward tufts of silver-blonde hair with something like disappointment

Ah, well. 

**(There’s always next time.)**

* * *

It might’ve been in the middle of the night when Ritsuka is woken up by the sound of the window sliding open. He sits up, rubbing his eyes at the new arrival coming in through the open window on the other side of the room. 

“Who are you?” Ritsuka asks, yawning, wondering if Hisoka always had many intruders wherever he stayed and if that was why Hisoka had taken the couch so obediently (not that he expected any different, when the words had come from his own mouth). 

The unidentified figure, a dark silhouette against the moonlight spilling in from the window in the back, cursed when they are startled by Ritsuka’s sudden interjection. 

“Shut up and stay out of this,” the figure snarls, brandishing a knife menacingly, “Or I will cut a new hole in your chest and fuck the shit out of it.” 

Well, that’s rude. 

Ritsuka reached out with his Nen, gathering his Reign and twining it around the still unknown figure. The figure choked a little under the sudden weight of the compulsion, coughing a few times, but still managed to keep upright, though just barely. Idly, Ritsuka twirled a strand of hair around a finger as he speculated the ways he could make the man kill himself. Should he tell the intruder to climb back out the window and watch him plummet to his death? Or should he make him hold his breath until he suffocates? 

Both are equally tempting. Ritsuka really doesn’t respond well to being threatened. 

Ritsuka glances to the side and is met with a pair of golden eyes staring back at him. Hisoka peers at him with bright eyes that nearly glow in the dark of the room, a piercing gaze full of curiosity and anticipation. “I’m not a show, Hisoka,” Ritsuka scowls at the man, pointing a finger at the still-frozen intruder. “And this man is probably here to kill you. Go clean up your mess.” 

Hisoka smiles, slow and languid. “I thought you were doing a good job handling it. You already have him so securely in your clutches, need I interfere?” 

Ritsuka frowns at him, a furrow in his brow that shows that he isn’t used to people questioning back. “I guess––not.” 

It would have been amusing if Hisoka hadn’t known that the only reason why the thrall is so easy to resist is because right now all of the compulsion is focused on the intruder on the other side of the room. “Go away,” Ritsuka tells the intruder, looking nearly to pouting. Immediately, the man goes back to the open window and climbs back out. The screaming only starts at the hundred-fiftieth level mark, and by that time it is already too far away to hear. 

“Very well done, Ritsu.” Hisoka nearly nods in approval when a sudden wave of feeling crashed over him. Slowly, struggling against the pressure, Hisoka drags his eyes over to where Ritsuka sits on the bed, looking for all like a particularly whimsical, spoiled cat. 

“Come here, Hisoka,” the younger man tells him demandingly, crooking a finger, and Hisoka’s in front of him before he even realizes. Ritsuka reaches up at Hisoka with arms outstretched, thunder grey eyes wide, looking so young and so innocent in that moment that Hisoka can’t help but reach down for him. Suddenly two hands grab him by the collar of his shirt and yank him down into the bed. His head hits a pillow and he feels the covers fall over his legs, and there is a solid bulk of warmth that settles on his chest and he looks down to see Ritsuka’s face not three inches away from his own. 

Sighing, Ritsuka lays his ear against Hisoka’s chest, the rest of his body draped over the larger man in a similar fashion to how cats would lay themselves lazily over the backs of sofas and other pieces of furniture. 

“Be quiet. It’s cold in here, and… you’re warm,” mumbles Ritsuka. Even though the night wasn’t all that chilly and the building’s air conditioning made sure the temperature was always kept at moderate levels. But Hisoka remembers the one very brief visit he’d made to Meteor City, just out of curiosity, remembers the scorching temperatures that had persisted even at night in the junkyard kingdom. 

“If you try anything, there won’t be enough left of you to give to Feitan.” 

Well, that promptly stops the ideas forming in his head. Hisoka sighs, and tentatively places his hands on Ritsuka’s back––momentarily surprised at how slight the younger man is (the width of his waist so narrow, the tips of his fingers just nearly able to touch wrapped entirely around his rib cage, bones easily felt through a layer of lean muscle, the relaxed position making their bodies mold together as if they were two pieces of a puzzle set meant to fit together). 

When that didn’t get him a severed limb, Hisoka proceeded to wrap his arms around Ritsuka in a sort of hug. Ritsuka remained stretched out over him, splayed hair tickling him under the chin. 

There’s a soft exhale, then Ritsuka’s breathing evens out into something slow and deep. The man is deep asleep within seconds lying on top of Hisoka. In the few hours in which Ritsuka had slept alone in the bed before the midnight intruder had come, Hisoka remembers hearing quite a bit of restless movement from the young man, no doubt twisting the blankets into unrecognizable shapes. 

It is as if Ritsuka can't sleep alone. If that’s true, Hisoka wonders who Ritsuka falls asleep with on normal nights (probably Kuroro, since they are together most of the time). (That is indeed true, and the original members of the Genei Ryodan have a long-standing rotation schedule of sharing a sleeping space with Ritsuka every time he decides to sleep. Kuroro is a chronic insomniac, so he usually reads while Ristuka slept. Machi, also somewhat of an insomniac, knits.) 

Ritsuka’s gone by the morning––and how he was able to get off of Hisoka and out of the room without waking him up would forever be an unsolved mystery to Hisoka––no trace of him left behind except a smiley face drawn on his cheek in his own eyeliner that he discovers when he sees himself in the mirror later on that morning.


End file.
